Sparring Room
by kreepyk
Summary: A humorous (I hope) homage to Mamet.


This story is a silly homage to David Mamet. A few months ago I realized how funny it would be to see a "Buffy" episode in the style of Mamet. If you have no idea what I am talking about, rent "American Buffalo" or "Glengarry Glen Ross" sometime. Obviously, this is intended to be humor.  
  
  
  
***  
  
Setting: Nighttime, the training room in back of the Magic Box. One corner of the room is piled with half opened boxes from a large order and Anya's half-completed inventory. Buffy's hands are taped up and she is jabbing at the heavy bag. Spike is leaning against the wall and blowing smoke into an open window.  
  
Spike: It is time your friends were told because I am sick of your little-miss-innocent routine. And sneaking past that Welfare bitch, stupid cow. Even that thick bricklayer is going to figure... eventually. I mean Giles went back. So he...I mean you care but... and you still think I can't change. But I can change. I can. I bloody have. You can see it. But you won't and I'm sick of... You're so stubborn and so...just won't give a bloke a chance. I'm not your bloody Captain of the Whores and I... you can't admit it. Admit it. You can't admit it. (Angry) Look at  
me when I'm talking to you.  
Buffy: I'm not listening I.  
Spike: Keep punching the bag and t'hell with me, right? Because you can. And you know it.  
Buffy: That's how it is. That's it.  
Spike: So I'm just your Back Door Man. I'm trying to talk to...  
Buffy: What?  
Spike: What? The Doors. You know...  
Buffy: * I* said that. What.  
Spike: You're not list...  
Buffy: That sounded like a complaint and you are in no position. Because I can.  
Spike: You can. Yes *YOU* can. Yes you. That's it. It's you. Always you. It's you and your fr..  
Buffy: Cut you off. You know it. You listen to the Doors? You reference the Doors in an argument.  
Spike: Fuck. It.  
Buffy: (Drops hands and turns to look at him. Advances and points a finger in his face.) What?  
Spike: What. You know.  
Buffy: I know...  
Spike: You know.  
Buffy: ...what? You'd like me to think that *you're the rock*. I'm the rock. *I* am THE ROCK. I am fucking Stonehenge. I am a rock. *You* should remember that when...  
Spike: ...you come begging for it. You come to me. To me. ME! Keep your  
friends in the dark but you want ...  
Buffy: IT right? IT, not you. I am granite. Not you. Not you, not ever I...  
Spike: ...not me.  
Buffy: That's right.  
Spike: That's right.  
Buffy: That's right. Right. That's it. You are right. That's it. NO. (shakes head violently) That's it!  
Spike: Fucking, lousy, bloody....  
Buffy: Keep it up!  
Spike: manipulative, miserable, blonde, asinine...  
Buffy : No, no keep going. I want to hear this...  
Spike: bloody BITCH!  
Buffy ...what the BIG BAD has to say for *himself* when he's so  
*desperate* you can *smell* it on...  
Spike: you're reaching, now...  
Buffy: ...your stupid, goddamn leather coat. You could never handle women or liquor and you don't have the *stones* to leave this chickenshit town...  
Spike: (makes the nagging gesture with his free hand) nag, nag, nag, nag, nag....  
Buffy: when nobody wants you here you freaking loser bum asshole murderous fuck.  
Spike: Now we're getting something . Something here...  
Buffy: What.  
Spike: here's something you don't...  
Buffy: What. What. Prick you aren't the rock.  
Spike: No. Don't. No. No. No. Always in my face, well...  
Buffy: What.  
Spike: Bitch. (Flicks his cigarette into her face. She bats it away and takes one big step back. Glares at him with lips a narrow line.)  
Buffy: You. Are. A. Fucking. Waste.  
Spike: And.  
Buffy: Pig. That's it. That is *it*.  
  
(Glaring for a long minute while Spike makes a big show of getting another cigarette, offers her one (no reaction) lighting it and blowing smoke toward her.)  
  
Spike: (Very slightly sarcastic sensitive voice) You should just admit you want me, pet.  
Buffy: (Mock romantic feelings) Well, now I am completely won over by your sincere and completely realistic turnaround! I'm eating this up like cake. Slice me another, Mr. Dishonest bastard egomaniac. If only every woman could be so lucky...you'd like to think you are some  
irresistible Loner figure ronin bullshit image of masculinity but I am so tired of your poser wannabe ass and your fucking scented candles from fucking Walgreens for $1.39 with fucking in-store coupon and you think that just because I, I, I had a weak moment...  
Spike: or five...  
Buffy: and now I regret it. And you are still just living in your  
goddamn robot dreamland stupid. And I know you really think that...about women. Like that and you just want a warm....well there's more. Much more. And can't you leave me alone? (Sobs)  
Spike: No I can't leave you alone.  
Buffy: (sniffling) No?  
Spike: No. No. No. No.(Places his hand on her shoulder and wipes her tears away with other hand.) No. And you. You can't leave *me* alone. 


End file.
